Rupert

Reviewed by Rebecca Harkins-Cross

By David Williamson Melbourne Theatre Company Playhouse, Arts CentreUntil September 28★★★☆

With News Corp up to their usual antics in the lead-up to the federal election, the premiere of David Williamson's cabaret-style comedy about the life of Rupert Murdoch couldn't be better timed.

Williamson's work is generally focused on Australian life and society, but here his lens widens to a broader picture. The trajectory of Murdoch's rise and rise transcends the story of the man himself, saying much about the shadowy intersection of media, money, politics and power.

Rupert is about the legend of Murdoch, whose backing is still thought, in some camps, to make or break a government. With an indefatigable belief in the free market and himself, his reckless avarice is saved only by unbelievable business acumen.

Written from the perspective of the mogul himself, our larger-than-life protagonist insists that this is the definitive story — replete with musical interludes, flashy projections and wonderfully vulgar caricatures of Murdoch's many famous friends. Lee Lewis directs the pageantry with bumbling glee, walking a tightrope between the satirical and the downright daggy.

Shakespearean actor Sean O'Shea makes his debut with MTC as the octogenarian Murdoch, the narrator of his life story, portraying him as a roguish larrikin. It's a truly captivating performance, with just a hint of menace beneath the charisma. While Murdoch touts his ruthlessness with pride, it's not until the play's final moments that the façade falls down and we glimpse the kind of tyranny necessary to build an empire that expansive.

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Murdoch's younger and more idealistic self is played by the fresh-faced Guy Edmonds, also very good, but somewhere along the line the Oxford man who kept a bust of Lenin on his windowsill becomes an "apex predator" who aspires to global domination.

A superb chorus take on Murdoch's family and friends, colleagues and competitors, including Marg Downey, Daniela Farinacci and Simon Gleeson, with the focus moreso on his business ascension than his personal life.

His failings aren't spared—from his moral vacuity in matters concerning the UK tabloids, or the News of the World phone hacking scandal that brought the empire to its knees—but treating these events with the same slapstick humour can be callously flippant.

As the play goes on, Rupert can feel like a catalogue of Murdoch's mythic acquisitions and achievements. It's an impressive CV, yet what motivates his insatiable desire for growth is never fully explored, beyond the ambitious Antipodean wanting to prove himself on the world stage (and in the eyes of his reproachful mother). It's not quite enough to fathom the character.

When it comes to Murdoch's political reach, Williamson also pulls his punches. Murdoch has continually downplayed his editorial control, as well as denying asking for favours from politicians, and so too does his theatrical incarnation. Despite winks and nods aplenty, it's a copout to so closely toe the official line.

One wishes Williamson unearthed something more of the man beyond the public persona. But I guess the tabloid king himself never let the truth get in the way of entertainment.